Now that everything had been prepared, Ariana held the card between her fingers and activated it, repeating the same process as before. Green-tinted energy enveloped Arcadia completely, wrapping continents, oceans, and skies like a pulsating mantle. Before her eyes, time began to accelerate.

  Forests rippled under winds that did not truly exist. Shadows shifted rapidly. Entire cycles passed in mere instants. Even though she had witnessed this phenomenon once before, the sensation was no less unsettling. A chill ran through her divine body as she realized that, once again, five years would pass without her being able to interfere, correct, or even closely observe what happened to her world.

  When the energy finally dissipated and Arcadia resumed its normal rotation, silence returned.

  Ariana hovered in the air for a few moments before slowly descending, observing the world from above. She analyzed the climate, the terrain, any possible signs of drastic change—but nothing seemed out of place. There were no cities, no artificial structures, no visible scars on the environment. Perhaps five years truly weren’t enough for dramatic changes, at least not at first glance.

  She remembered her original world.

  There, following the path of science, evolution took millions of years, shaping life with a slowness that bordered on cruelty. Arcadia, however, was different. As a goddess, she had created the foundations, given the first pushes, accelerated processes that could never be rushed in other worlds. Still, this advancement served as a reminder.

  There was a clear boundary between guiding and controlling.

  At some point, all she would be able to do was observe.

  For a brief moment, distant thoughts crossed her mind. She imagined the humans she would one day create—the cultures they would form, the food they would invent, flavors and customs that did not yet exist. But she quickly pushed those thoughts aside.

  It wasn’t time yet.

  Ariana landed in the same place as always, near the great tree where the bulls and cows usually slept. The group there was smaller than before. Only a handful remained, while others had spread into small, distant clusters. Nothing alarming—the population was still modest, and the dispersion appeared natural.

  If they were like wolves or chickens… she thought quietly.

  Bovines reproduced slowly, one calf at a time, which placed clear limits on their expansion. Chickens, on the other hand, had already spread across much of the continent, while pigs formed large groups in several regions. Ariana was satisfied. She hadn’t lost any of these three species, and all of them were important. In the future, they would form the foundation of human food supply, and for that, they needed to thrive in a healthy way.

  Still, none of this was what truly held her attention.

  What Ariana wanted to see were the goblins.

  She moved into the forest and concealed her presence, becoming invisible to the creatures’ eyes. She walked for some time until smells and sounds led her to a cave. There were many goblins there. Most remained inside, while a few stood guard outside. Around the entrance, several small burrows had been dug—crude, poorly reinforced, improvised, yet functional enough to indicate long-term occupation.

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  Driven by curiosity, Ariana entered the cave.

  Deeper inside, poorly lit by torches and glowing fungi, something immediately caught her attention—a large throne made of rough stone and stacked bones. Sitting upon it was a goblin unlike the others. His body was broader, heavier, and his presence commanded silence. He was devouring an entire chicken without restraint, while another goblin, smaller and hunched, stood waiting before him.

  Ariana focused her perception on him.

  [Name: Goblin]

  [Title: Goblin King]

  [Classification: ???]

  [Average Level: 2]

  [Attributes:]

  Strength: 25

  Agility: 20

  Vitality: 50

  Intelligence: 15

  Mana: 60

  Her gaze narrowed slightly at the title.

  “System, who grants these titles to creatures?” she asked.

  [The System, based on achievements or milestones reached by the creature], came the objective reply.

  He was merely a goblin slightly stronger than the others—but that was enough. The rest watched him with fear and reverence. One by one, they brought offerings: rabbits, chickens, and even a Bone-Devouring Worm, barely restrained. That surprised Ariana. Capturing such a creature shouldn’t have been easy for goblins.

  One of the smaller goblins approached carrying a rabbit cub. Upon receiving it, the Goblin King bit into it without hesitation, chewed for several seconds, then stared coldly at the one who had served him. A deep growl echoed through the cave.

  “ROAR.”

  The smaller goblin dropped to his knees, trembling, and began speaking in a strange, guttural language.

  “buaaaarwwrgh…”

  Ariana’s eyes narrowed.

  “What…?”

  And then—almost without realizing it—she understood.

  “I’m sorry! The wolves and that tree are getting in our way.”

  The realization made her hold her breath for a moment.

  She had understood everything.

  The Goblin King stared down at his subordinate with disdain, his teeth still stained with blood.

  “I don’t want excuses,” he growled menacingly. “You bring me food… or you become food.”

  Ariana remained invisible, watching silently as the Goblin King’s words echoed through the cave. She felt no immediate shock or anger. The discomfort came slowly, subtly, as she realized this wasn’t mere brute violence.

  It was organization.

  In just a few years, the goblins had formed hierarchy, punishment, and obedience—not by divine command, but by necessity.

  The bone throne drew her attention. It wasn’t decoration. It was a symbol of power. The lesser goblins bowed because they had learned that survival meant obedience. That disturbed her more than any predatory instinct. Arcadia was following its laws correctly, and yet this outcome existed.

  No rules had been broken.

  The System hadn’t warned of instability. Mana flow remained high. The reincarnation cycle functioned flawlessly. Everything was “correct.”

  And yet the scene before her was real.

  Fear as a tool. Scarcity as control.

  Ariana remembered when she had created the goblins. She had given them moderate intelligence and the ability to cooperate—nothing more. She hadn’t created cruelty, but she hadn’t prevented it either.

  Perhaps that was the point.

  The absence of intention did not create neutrality. Societies formed on their own, even when the result was flawed.

  For a moment, she considered intervening. Removing that goblin would be easy. The group would reorganize. The world would continue. But she understood the weight of such an action. Intervening now would teach Arcadia that mistakes were always corrected by an invisible will.

  The world would learn nothing.

  Besides, that king did not exist by chance. He was born from scarcity, from competition with wolves, from environmental pressure she herself had created. Eliminating him would not erase the cause. Others would rise.

  The Goblin King resumed chewing what remained of the rabbit, satisfied, while the other goblin crawled backward, moving quickly enough to avoid becoming the next target. The line reorganized itself without anyone issuing orders. A new goblin stepped forward with food; the others lowered their heads. Everything happened automatically, as if this ritual had already been repeated dozens of times.

  Ariana remained motionless, unseen.

  That group no longer survived by chance alone.

  They defended. They dominated. They punished.

  She observed in silence for a few more moments, engraving the scene into her memory.

  Then, without being noticed, Ariana withdrew from the cave.